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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145303">that hollow moon (in the trembling blue-green of the sky)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus'>Draco_sollicitus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bloodburn, Canon Typical Violence, Chronic Illness, Eventual Damerey, F/M, Grief, Loss of Parents, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Potential for jedistormpilot, The new Jedi Temple, Yavin 4, references to death, references to slavery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:33:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The diagnosis comes a year after Exegol:</p><p>General Poe Dameron is grounded permanently after the onset of bloodburn symptoms. Poe doesn't know what to do with himself with no war to fight, and no way to the sky. So, he returns to Yavin 4. Tries to make sense of a senseless galaxy. Tries to find something good in the soil.</p><p>The monotony of farm life is soon broken by the arrival of a certain Jedi, with a curious thing in tow. And what follows will shape not only Poe's post-war life, but the galaxy itself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Poe Dameron &amp; Finn, Poe Dameron &amp; Finn &amp; Rey, Poe Dameron/Rey, Rey &amp; Finn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>that hollow moon (in the trembling blue-green of the sky)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(Title comes from "Adam's Curse" by Yeats, which pretty much sums up a major theme of this ol' thing)</p><p>Hello hello hello I know it's been a hot minute since I published Damerey fic!!! I am ... very sorry. It's been a really rough year.</p><p>This idea came to me while watching the Mandalorian, funnily enough, even though it's very much Poe-centric. </p><p>It's tagged as Damerey because right now, I see it ending with Damerey, but there will be elements of FinnRey/FinnPoeRey/FinnPoe here and there because everyone loves Finn, and  can't really see a solid way forward for this fic without acknowledging how important Finn is to Poe/Rey, and to this particular storyline! it's also rated T, but that could possibly change - always check out my chapter warnings, which is a regular-me thing if you've ever read something I've written</p><p>Anyway, here we go! Let's all love on Poe Dameron. He needs it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> The galaxy cracked down the middle; stars spilt out of that cracked chassis, tumbling through cavernous space. Light from light and light, and still he fell into darkness. </em>
</p><p>[<em> Oh, Our beautiful boy. </em>]</p><p>“General Dameron?”</p><p>
  <em> Static rippled against the current. Unbearable heat flared; a shift in the solar panels, maybe. Blast shield didn’t pull up fast enough. Outrunning death again, and again and again. </em>
</p><p>“General Dameron, do you copy?”</p><p>[<em> Brown-eyed boy, put your feet down. </em>]</p><p>“General Dameron?”</p><p>
  <em> Cold against the bones of knees, cold against the bones of the past, cold against the cockpit seat - eject, eject, why didn’t you eject - fragmented and unsure because if it’s so cold, why are you boiling alive - </em>
</p><p>“General Dameron! I found him, sir, he’s-”</p><p>[<em> We do not want you to die, our beautiful boy. You have time yet. Stand up. </em>]</p><p>“Poe, open your eyes. C’mon Poe, this isn’t funny - thought you were kriffin’ drunk, so why are your vitals so screwy - <em> medic, </em> I need a medic <em> ten minutes ago </em>-”</p><p>“-Medic is on the way, General Finn, we need to -”</p><p>
  <em> Flying. All you ever wanted to do. Now you’re in freefall. Fly, little birdie, fly. The branches are safe; a tree up ahead, fly to it. Light and clear and home. It knows your name. Fly. </em>
</p><p>[<em> You were never meant for the air, little one. Put your feet on the ground. Roots into dirt. Return to the soil </em>]</p><p>“-stay with me, Poe, we’re almost there-”</p><p>“It’s hot,” Poe mumbles, grasping onto the warm hand planted firmly on his chest. “It’s so hot-”</p><p>“We need to get him cold. Ice. Cooling packs. Anything, go, go now - get the snow from outside if you have to, Jess, go-”</p><p>“I’m dyin’,” Poe holds Finn back when he tries to turn away; the lights of the exam room flicker strangely above his head, fluorescent and toobright against the tree behind them, nearly flooding out the soothing greyblueness. “Finn, I’m-”</p><p>“You aren’t dying.” Finn pushes him back, brown eyes wide and serious and commanding. “Not on my watch. Not here. Not on my base. Not on the ground. Poe Dameron doesn’t kriffing die like this.” He turns and shouts to where the darkness swirls at the edge of Poe’s vision. “Kalonia! He’s crashing-”</p><p><em> I already crashed, </em>Poe wants to say. Nothing comes out of his too dry lips, so he lets his eyes roll back and steps into the light waiting for him beyond the exam room. </p><p>
  <em> Home.  </em>
</p><p>[<em> Yes, home. Go home, Poe Dameron. It’s time. </em>]</p>
<hr/><p>The light recedes all at once, and Poe shivers, cold at last, against the vinyl-covered table. The room is unholy white, and Finn’s the one spot of life in it, exhausted and slumped in his chair in the corner. </p><p>Something about the way he shifts must be enough to startle Finn; he shakes himself awake and is at the bedside in seconds. There’s a painful secret lurking behind Finn’s eyes; Poe swallows and waits to hear it. </p><p>“Guessing I didn’t just misjudge the oxygen readings when I was out there,” Poe jokes softly. </p><p>“No.” Finn stares down at him, grieved already. “How long have you been feeling like this?”</p><p>“Feeling like what? Like I got chewed up by a wampa and spat out? I’d say … probably since I woke up here. Maybe the bartender didn’t like me at the cantina, slipped something weird in my-”</p><p>“Poe.” </p><p>Finn’s voice is strained, so Poe quiets and looks up at him. It’s hard to lie to his best friend, so he squirms a little before admitting: “A few months. Been blacking out here and there. Figured it was something with my diet.”</p><p>“No, you didn’t.” Finn pinches the bridge of his nose. “Because, you aren’t stupid. My best friend is not stupid. You <em> knew </em> -”</p><p>“I knew that if I said something, I’d get the third degree!”</p><p>“You knew that if you said something, you’d get grounded,” Finn corrects. He’s still maddeningly gentle, a testament to the blade clipped at his hip. </p><p>Finn is everything a Jedi should be; kind, calm, patient, sturdy, loyal. He’s exuding compassion even as he frowns down at Poe. It’s a little maddening.</p><p>There’s a flash of unexpected emotion: Poe realizes he wishes there was a different Jedi here telling him what he’s already suspected for months on end. He wants snarling and jokes and bluntness. He doesn’t want the soft hand carding through his hair. It feels like his mother telling him she’s sick. </p><p>Except now it’s his best friend, telling Poe that <em> he’s </em>sick.</p><p>The galaxy is pretty kriffed in that way.</p><p>“Kalonia’s coming by later. She’s going to tell you that it’s-”</p><p>“Bloodburn.”</p><p>Finn freezes, and Poe takes advantage of it and sits up, groaning. His muscles feel like they’ve been through a meat grinder. “Don’t beat around the bush. I know. I’ve known for a while, I think.”</p><p>“You were in Hyperspace <em> last week, </em>Poe! You could have died!”</p><p>“Yeah. When you’re a pilot, you sorta learn to accept that as the norm-”</p><p>“Poe!” Finn grasps his wrist, and Poe stills again. “Poe, please. You - we can’t let you fly again.”</p><p>“Who can’t?” Poe scoffs, ignoring how it pulls at the oversore muscles of his abdomen. “I’m the general, Finn, I’m not exactly inclined to take orders these days-”</p><p>“From me, you do.” </p><p>They stare at each other for a long moment. Poe blinks first and half-rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders up close to his ears as he stares determinedly at a spot on the wall three inches to the left of Finn’s broad shoulder.</p><p>“Poe.”</p><p>“Leave it.”</p><p>“<em> Poe. </em>”</p><p>“<em> I said leave </em>-” </p><p>The world shudders and tilts horribly; branches of light flicker behind his eyelids as heat flashes along his spine.</p><p>Strong hands catch him and set him back down on the exam table, and they stay there, holding him down as his body shakes, waves of pain forcing bile into his throat as he gasps for shreds of air. </p><p>“Breathe,” Finn soothes, one warm hand at Poe’s temple, the other at his chest. “Shit, Dameron, don’t do this to me, breathe, okay?” He sucks in a breath demonstratively, and what feels like a glowing ball of light surges in Poe’s chest, directly under Finn’s broad hand.</p><p>“Breathe.”</p><p>Poe focuses on the light and lets it tug him forward, feels his lungs and heart align with it as he tilts his chin back and sucks in a breath to match Finn’s, his feet spasming a little in repercussed waves of agony, like he’s being electro-shocked.</p><p>“Breathe.”</p><p>Poe nods to himself and tries again. Still, the glowing persists in his chest, warmer and realer than the snarling heat traipsing up and down his veins like a Coruscanti acrobat on a high wire.</p><p>In minutes, he’s breathing normally again, and the panicked beeping of bedside monitors has soothed down to a normal cluster of noise near his head. Finn doesn’t move, but he turns his face away from Poe’s to study the readings with a frown. It’s then that Poe sees them.</p><p>Tears, painted down the beautiful cheekbones of his friend, grouped and pooled on the beige fabric of his robes. There’s a pervasive tinge to the air around him, soaking into Poe’s bones as loudly as though Finn were screaming his thoughts at him, and not just quietly studying the monitors.</p><p>“Finn.” Poe’s voice is hoarse even to his own ears. </p><p>The air around Finn seems to palpate and shift, seismic activity in the threads of feeling that always branch out from the Jedi, trembling and shaking into Poe’s own fingertips as he reaches up slowly to grab Finn’s forearm. </p><p>“Finn?”</p><p>At last, Finn looks back at him, and his eyes are red-rimmed. </p><p>These days, Finn’s taken to meditating when his anger at the galaxy gets to be too much to handle - like on the days he comes back from missions with Jannah, the latter of whom always gives Poe a sad headshake when the mission kriffed up, when they aren’t able to save anyone, when the people they find at the distant end of the First Order’s leash have been beyond saving, from brainwashing or torture or execution. Those days, Finn disappears for hours on end, taking no calls, eating no food, not responding to anything as he sits and tries to connect to the Force, the thing that sits at the middle of all of this and sees it all and still manages to be balanced. </p><p>Poe hates that tonight, he’ll be the reason Finn has to meditate. Has to cut himself off from the rest of their friends. Has to -</p><p>“I’ll hear what Kalonia has to say,” Poe grits out, still clutching Finn’s arm like a lifeline. “I’ll hear her out, okay?”</p><p>Finn doesn’t blink, to his credit. “You already know what she’s going to say.” </p><p>Poe presses his lips together, and he counts twenty-six beeps of the monitor next to him before he manages to answer.</p><p>“I’ll try to listen.”</p><p>There’s a twitch on the left corner of Finn’s plush mouth. “Don’t try. Do.”</p><p>Poe chuckles weakly, and later he’ll be glad he did. It’s the last time he’ll laugh for a while.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> Two Months Later </em>
</p><p>Up at dawn. Check the thresher droids. Tune-up HG-54 and CT-7. Make sure the koyo makes it into the crates. Walk the compound. Check the thresher droids again. Drink a gallon of water. Sit on the porch and try not to shoot any nearby trees when the anger gets too big to hold in. Drink another gallon of water. Don’t look at the A-Wing loitering at the near edge of the property. Don’t look down at the ring on the end of the chain. Stand up, walk the compound. Check the droids. Drink another gallon of water. Sit on the edge of the bed. Take the pills. Fall asleep. </p><p>Up at dawn.</p>
<hr/><p>Poe’s days are mostly uninterrupted. </p><p>He never thought he’d come back here, after all. Not after Mom. Not after Dad.</p><p>He visits their grave every Benduday, arranges the flowers, checks the stones, watches the holo of them laughing and dancing at some Rebel party, a holo that Leia had specially sent over when his Dad passed four years back. </p><p>(And then Leia was gone not even three years after that - <em> but don’t think about it </em>)</p><p>He avoids the tree at the far side of the compound. Can’t think about it, for some reason. His brain latches onto it for a moment, then slips away. Like holding water in his cupped hands. Poe’s not been able to look at it straight on since -</p><p>Well, since he ran away.</p><p>Now, it’s just him out here. Him and the tree and the distant feeling of people, the thrum of the village of Alderaanian refugees who are still here, trying to rebuild decades on from one of the worst things ever to happen to the galaxy. </p><p>He sends them koyo, free of charge, and melons and pears. It’ll be grain when the seasons shift, and then koyo and melons and pears again. And on and on and on and on.</p><p>For someone who was so sure he’d die with stardust behind his eyelids, he spends a lot of time with soil under his nails these days.</p><p>Poe tries not to scream. Finds ways to distract himself, mostly by working so hard he’s too tired to remember he wants to punch things 85% of the time. It doesn’t work at night when nightmares rip him out of sleep. Tallie. L’ulo. Lor San Tekka. Snap.</p><p>Muran.</p><p>Always Muran. Even with Snap’s loss so fresh it burns at him worse than his blood does most days, it’s Muran’s smile that has him screaming awake most nights. The feeling of him shatter against the stars - the warm song of him ripped out of the galaxy in one horrific moment. Aftershocks rippling through Poe to this day. </p><p>(Don’t look at the ring at the end of the chain).</p><p>Some days, Zorri calls, usually with the cheerful <em> hallo hallo big hunka! </em>of Babu gloating in the corner as he waves various tools in Poe’s direction.</p><p>Finn calls at least three times a week, and has actually visited a handful of times, which makes Poe feel like his self-imposed exile is less tortuous than it really could be.</p><p>They hadn’t <em> made </em>him retire, after all. He could have stayed on, led from a chair. But the idea of passing hangars of ships every day, knowing that he couldn’t be in the cockpit, that he’d be asking people to risk their lives and do things he physically couldn’t anymore - </p><p>It wasn’t even that, really. Somewhere, he’s aware that it’s the fact that there’s no real war anymore. And, if he’s a general outside of war, he really wouldn’t be in a cockpit at all. He’s a soldier. A fighter. A <em> pilot.  </em></p><p>And if he can’t be that - </p><p>It’s a question that sits like bitter oil at the edge of his thoughts when he sits, wheezing, at the foot of his bed, hand fisted around his mom’s ring. <em> What will he be now?  </em></p><p>Sometimes, it feels like there’s an answer in whatever far-off but too-close melody that he catches glimpses of in beams of light and scatterings of leaves against the compacted earth beneath his boots - it feels like it’s pulling him somewhere, too-close but far-off.</p><p>But, he doesn’t want to know the answer yet, so he doesn’t. </p><p>It feels simple, even though he knows it’s not.</p>
<hr/><p>Towards the end of his third month back on Yavin 4, Poe watches the sky more than usual. </p><p>He doesn’t know if it’s Kalonia or Finn who will come with the shot, but they’ll be here soon. With a dosage of hadeira serum, his first since Kalonia had shot him full of it to bring him back from the edge of catastrophe when he’d collapsed on base. </p><p>His temp’s up a lot these days, and he sweats too hard to do anything but drink more gallons of water and sit in the shade most of the time. Luckily the droids have been working well enough, their parts gleaming and oiled and perfect as they whirr and zip to and fro.  Doesn’t really lessen his frustration when he has to sip water and apply ice packs to various parts of his body to fight back the throb of pain that burns through him. </p><p>Poe wants them to just leave the next few doses with him, but he knows it leads to overdose when it isn’t monitored, and he knows that after refusing therapy, retiring abruptly, and packing it up to live out here by himself on a distant jungle moon … </p><p>Well, their reluctance to leave the serum with him is understandable, albeit frustrating.</p><p>On a relatively innocuous, rainy Centaxday, Poe manages to handle his symptoms well enough. He takes a mild pain reliever, drinks a kriffton of water, checks on the droids, and only has to hunch over, breathing through his teeth, a few times. </p><p>He decides to take it easy the following day, so he calls it a night a little earlier than normal, setting up some portions of protein on the microstove and warming up some tea. The wind’s louder than normal, and it becomes background noise while he sips from his mug, the one Jess got him as a joke last year that says <em> World’s Best Dad! </em>in Basic.</p><p>(He’d never tell her, but it did make him tear up a little)</p><p>All at once, his ears prick, and he stands up from where he’d been slouching against the counter, shoulders hunched the way his dad’s always did before his mom swatted at his arm and reminded him, <em> posture, Kes, we used to be warriors, remember?  </em></p><p>There’s the unmistakable sound of a ship docking outside.</p><p>He frowns at the scanner, propped up on the old holoset; there’d been no indication of an incoming flight. Poe swats at it when he passes, but the thing only chirps, indicating that it’s been on this whole time.</p><p>The world is a sheet of water when he opens the front door; beyond the porch, rain comes down in unending streams. Rivers form along the sodden earth, trailing into the forest that the compound only just barely holds back, here at the corner of his little world.</p><p>An X-Wing has landed perfectly next to Shara’s old ship. </p><p>“Finn?” Poe shouts into the growing darkness. “That you, buddy?”</p><p>There’s a chirping noise as the droid on-boarding platform disengages and lowers slowly, and Poe takes unbelieving steps off the porch into the downpour. </p><p>“Buddy?” He shouts in disbelief. “Oh gods, buddy, look’t you!” </p><p>He kneels in the mud without a thought for how his joints will protest the unexpected movement, but the rain feels like soft whispers against his skin, carrying the promise of something fresh and better in its cool touch.</p><p>BB-8 rolls across the ground, swirling out of control through patches of mud and sending it spraying everywhere.</p><p>“Buddy!” Poe laughs as the droid slams into him almost full speed, nearly taking him down. “Ow, ow, yeah, I’m so happy to see you!”</p><p>And he is. Happy. It’s an odd feeling, suddenly, the lightness that sweeps through him as he gathers up his little droid in a messy, slippery hug. They’re both an awful mess, and he doesn’t care - it’ll clean up easy enough. </p><p>[<em> Poe </em>]</p><p>Poe blinks through the water dripping into his eyes from his dampened curls, grown out now that he’s in retirement, and stands. Something twines through the patter of rain against tin roofs, a call of something, a thrum he’s been ignoring since he landed her months back - it rises in cadence with each surge of rainfall, and BB’s excited trills clash and yet find harmony in the noise of it all - he wants it to stop, and he doesn’t ever want it to end, and he wants to sit in bed, but he wants to climb into the now vacated X-Wing, whose pilot -</p><p>Is standing right in front of him.</p><p>Hair plastered to the sides of her lovely face, hazel eyes wild in a brief flash of lightning, robes clinging to her slender form -</p><p>“Rey?” Poe doesn’t think she can hear him over the rumble of thunder, but he can hear her voice, chiming like bells against the cacophony of the storm.</p><p>“Poe.” He sees the awkward way she’s holding her arm, the way her cape has pulled to twist around her, leaving her pants to be drenched by the rain. “Please. I need your help.”</p><p>For a moment, Poe’s utterly floored.<em> What in the goddess’s good name might the most powerful person in the galaxy </em> need <em> from a retired, beat-up old pilot? </em></p><p>“I don’t know-”</p><p>Rey maneuvers her arm carefully, pulling her cape back to reveal the form clinging to her lower leg.</p><p>Brilliant green eyes stare up at him from a round-cheeked face, and Poe’s attention catches for a second on the way chubby hands have fisted themselves into the limited loose fabric at the bottom of Rey’s leggings. </p><p>“<em> We </em> need your help,” Rey repeats, her voice quiet still, still clear in his head. </p><p>Poe nods wordlessly, and gestures to the house behind him; Rey scoops up the small child and holds him awkwardly on her bony hip as she follows Poe inside.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please let me know what you think! I could see this being mega-long, or regular medium length (20k ish). Also, lots of potential in general to have this connect to Mando (yes, in the way you're thinking), so let me know any thoughts on that potential crossover.</p><p>thank you, thank you for reading, and thanks to everyone who hasn't given up on me!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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